When You Love Someone Like That
by Bren Gail
Summary: Callen had buried the memories of Tracy Keller deep within his psyche, but her reappearance and subsequent arrest has him unable to forget about her. Whom will he turn to? Spoilers/Tag for S2E6, Standoff. Callen/Tracy. Kensi/Jack. Callen/Kensi. Angst. Friendship.


_**When You Love Someone Like That**_

* * *

_"When you love someone like that, with all you heart and soul, it's so hard to let it go."_

_- When You Love Someone Like That, Reba McEntire _

* * *

G. Callen was not an emotional man. He felt emotions, of course, but he had long ago learned to control what he felt, mostly. He was a master of his emotions, a master manipulator of others, and the master of finagling his way of talking about those feelings that did manage to slip pass his barriers. His philosophy had long been why talk about something that you could not change? He knew it frustrated the people around him, particularly his best friend, Sam Hanna, and good friend, Operational Psychologist, Nate Gertz, but they came to understand that if he needed to talk, when he needed to talk, he would find one of them. Sure, they prodded, prompted, and even nagged, but hardly ever did they truly push him to talk. He blocked out the noises of the bar as he nursed his second beer of the evening and tried not to think about why he was trying to drink his sorrows away, to forget what happened several years ago, but also what had happened earlier.

Once he and Sam had returned from The Cayman Islands to the States with fugitive Tracy Rosetti, Callen's ex-wife, they took her to a Federal Prison to await her trial. After she was processed, the pair of partners returned to the bullpen long after everyone else had left for the day. Since, the case was peculiar and could be considered a conflict-of-interest on both of their parts; Hetty required all paperwork to be completed as soon as they returned. She did not want the brass, Tracy's attorney, or anyone else to have adequate claim that either the case or the arrest was undue or compromised.

Sam had astutely recognized that there were many things left unsaid in the story of what happened with the Kellers. After the paperwork was completed, Sam pushed too hard and refused to back off which made Callen leave, retreat, run. Callen was not proud of running, usually preferring to face something, to conquer it, but Tracy and the memories were not something he wanted to deal with. He had successfully buried the memories of Tracy Keller deep within his psyche, but her reappearance and subsequent arrest has him unable to forget about her.

Talking, in depth, about her with Sam was not an option. Sam would offer support, understanding, but where it concerned women, Callen always felt as if the happily married Sam was judging him. He felt like a failure. He was forty years old and had two serious relationships and a long, long line of flings, some only a few hours, others a few weeks, but none more than six weeks. No, he corrected himself; his two serious relationships were dishonest, which in his opinion voided the validity of them. The one with Tracy had been the most honest, or rather; he had been most honest; after all, he had given her his real name. In hindsight, giving her his name was what possibly started the end; things had been rather smooth until then. Her choosing the mission over him had not been the first time that she had done him wrong, no that was the first time that she had professionally done so. It was now clear to him that she had used him, the illustrious ghost G. Callen as a stepping-stone in the CIA. Even at the young age of twenty-four, within a year in his four years with Langley, he had garnered a reputation. He was a decorated Navy veteran, former FBI Agent that jumped Agencies two years from graduating the Academy, and the most promising Agent that Langley had seen since Henrietta Lange had first crossed their threshold. He signaled to the bartender to bring him another beer as he reminisced the good times with Tracy and regretted the bad mostly it was bad.

He was brought out of those memories by a feminine nasally voice. "Buy me a beer?"

He raised his beer close to his lips and paused, "Sorry, not interested."

"Well," The voice said unperturbed at the rejection. She sat on the bar stool beside him to his left, "I'll buy you a beer instead, handsome."

He glanced upward before he said as he turned toward her, "I said, that I'm not inter," He paused taking the appearance of the woman, jeans and a plain shirt, hair in a ponytail, but who the woman was, is what surprised him. He exclaimed, "Kensi!"

"Hi, Callen," She smiled, using her own voice, instead of one of her many alias's. "Sorry, about the ploy, I wanted to see the look of surprise on your face."

"Truly surprise me and you'll find a bullet in you or a black eye." He retorted as he motioned for the bartender to bring her a beer.

"I know," She agreed, "That's why I didn't touch your shoulder, like Kayla would've done, if I had been her on a case." She paused, nodded and thanked the bartender for the beer, before turning her attention back to Callen, "I didn't want the women in the corner to think that you were a wussy getting showed up by little ole me."

He chuckled in spite of the crushing heartbreak that simmered within him, "Kens, you bested me one time."

"Whatever," She rolled her eyes, "I've bested you more times than that, but you've conveniently forgotten them, because there were no witnesses, except for that one time."

He smiled, "You caught me."

"In more ways than one," She retorted holding the rim of the beer bottle to her lips.

"Sam sent you?" He replied. He shook his head, "He had Eric track me."

"Nope," She stated, before contradicting herself, "Well, he might have Eric tracking you, but no, he didn't send me."

He leveled his penetrating blue eyes at her.

"Okay," She said, repositioning herself in the chair in an offensive pose, "He might have called me and asked if you had dropped by my place, but under no circumstances did he send me after you or imply that I find you. I thought you'd come here."

"Why did you think that?" He asked, believing her true story.

"After," She paused, her voice slightly breaking, "After Dom died, we all came here. You said that this bar has a calming effect on you, almost peaceful." She cleared her throat, "I thought that after the past few weeks that you'd want to feel at peace and possibly a friend."

He nodded as his jaw slanted and his tongue trailed over the back of his top teeth. He knew it was coming. He knew that she was going to ask him if he wanted to talk, ask about what had happened all those years ago between him and Tracy. And, he knew that he would do the same thing as he had done to Sam, shutting down and leaving. He didn't want to hurt her, but it would be his natural reaction.

However, he was mostly wrong, because when Kensi next spoke, it was not a question about Tracy, but a statement, "She didn't know what she had, Callen. She was an idiot that does not deserve," She made an upward then downward hand motion, "Whatever this is your doing."

He swallowed and blinked. They were silent for several minutes. He was sure it as a combination of things, the alcohol he had consumed, his protectiveness over, and reluctance to hurt Kensi, as well as her not pressing for information that he found himself talking about Tracy. His voice vulnerable, breaking ever so often, "I disagree," He took a drink of his beer before slamming it onto the counter, "She knew exactly what she had. She was a young and ambitious Agent that knew that she had the beginnings of a successful career, that I was an asset for that career. She used me."

"Callen," She firmly replied, a light hand of assurance, of support, of comfort, on his left wrist, which rested on top of the bar, counter. "I don't care how young or ambitious she was, you don't do what she did to someone you love."

He snorted, "Kens," He retorted, dryly, almost mockingly at himself. "I knew she was going to hurt me that she didn't love me, but I wanted to love her anyway. I should have known better. I thought that I could love her enough for the both of us," His voice breaking as he continued, his tone of voice and the words themselves, showing Kensi a vulnerable side of G. Callen that a select few had seen, "No one before her had cared enough to stay, to care about me, what would make her different?"

Kensi blinked at the vulnerability he showed her, the honesty he gave her. She knew that he did not want her pity, that he did not want to seem pathetic or weak, so she did not comment on the clear fear of abandonment he held, "She was different," She said, her voice slightly breaking in empathy at the look of pain he felt, "Because you loved her." She cleared her throat, "After my father died and before Jack, I was on a path of self-destruction, I didn't care about myself, let alone others caring about me, but Jack made me see that love can make a difference, whether it small or big. If not for Jack, I would have stayed the bitter fifteen-year-old girl that wanted answers, but had no way of getting them. I would have stayed on a path that would've ended with me dead or in jail." She paused, cleared her throat, cleared the sobs that wanted to be cried, "When he left,"

With his left hand, he took her right, which had lightly rested on his wrist, in his hand and squeezed, "Kens, you don't have to,"

"Shh," She hushed him, "Yes, I have to." Her voice cracked, "I have to let you know that you are not at fault for whatever happened. You don't have to tell me for me to know that it was painful and something that you don't want to relive, but I _know_ that you are _reliving_ it, _blaming_ yourself for not being whatever it is that you think would have changed her decisions."

"Kensi," He stated warningly as his thumb caressed her palm.

She ignored the warning, arching her eyebrow in challenge, "When Jack left, I felt so alone, and lost. I questioned not only the love he felt for me, but what I felt for him. Why wasn't I enough for him? Why wasn't I stronger? He stronger? I have so many other questions that I am still searching for, but I have to have faith that it gets better." She paused, blinked back the tears that she refused to cry in front of him, "Callen, it does get better."

He rolled his eyes and snorted, "It's been fifteen years for me, Kens. If it was going to get better, it would have already."

"Sometimes, when you love someone like we did, it takes longer for it to get better." She smiled melancholy, "I'm not completely better, but I _am_ better."

Their hands stayed clasped as they silently sipped on their beers.

Kensi broke the silence as she popped a pretzel in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed it, "I'm going out limb here, and I'll understand if you tell me to back off, but Tracy was your first love, wasn't she? The first person you allowed to be emotionally involved with?"

He clenched his jaw and pursed his lips. He began again to caress her palm with his thumb as he had earlier, as if the caress calmed him. He quietly replied, "Yes."

"And no one has come close to overshadowing that love." She prodded, as she feared that she was potentially crossing a boundary he was not ready to cross with her, or perhaps anyone.

He swallowed and out of instinct more than an aversion of replying, he felt the emotional walls rising to shut not only Kensi out, but himself, too. Thinking about Tracy was hard, but thinking about Kristin, or more so, about Michael was a road that he was not prepared to go down, _ever_. The mere thought of a possibility that he had a son had him hopeful that one day he could settle down with someone who loved him as much as he loved her, but the thought also terrified him, because especially in his line of work, he was not promised a tomorrow. Leaving a child behind when he died was something that he was not ready to risk and he feared that he might never be. He wanted no one to feel as he had when he was growing up, how he sometimes still felt.

Kensi was silent as her left index finger circled the rim of the long neck beer bottle fearing that she had pushed the topic to the point where he would shut her out, but she was surprised, and relieved that he finally did answer her.

"Once." He whispered looking down at his beer. "Kristin."

Kensi had never heard two simple words quietly spoken sound so complicated. She took a slow drink of her beer to give her time to think of a response. She remembered the case vividly. She still hated flowers. Flowers triggered memories of Jack, but what made the case more vivid was that it was the last case before Dom went missing. As Kensi became lost in memories of regret and sadness, Callen slipped deeper in despair. They nursed their respective beers for several minutes, before Kensi broke the silence.

"We're a pair aren't we?" She sighed deeply, "I can't get over Jack and you…" She trailed off, not wanting to hurt him further by vocalizing that he could not get over Tracy, but she was surprised when he replied.

He grimaced, but finished her sentence, "Can't get over my ex-wife."

An hour passed as they continued silently to sit beside the other, right hand clasped with left hand. Kensi yawned for the fourth time in the past ten minutes and Callen realized she was not going to leave him alone, abandon him in his time of need, whether he knew he needed the support, or rather even if he wanted the support. That she would not leave until he sincerely assured her that he was okay. Surprisingly, he was now okay, he was not fine or good, but he was okay. He was resigned to the pain, the hurt, but it no longer controlled him. He had regained control over the emotions that normally was as easy to manage as breathing. He knew that it was, because of Kensi, that he had recovered it.

He gingerly untangled their fingers from the gentle grip of their handholding and wrapped his left arm around her shoulders. "Thank you, Kensi. This was a good talk, painful, but necessary." The look of surprise on her face touched his heart, that she knew not her importance or influence in his life. He smiled bittersweet. "I knew you were my favorite for a reason."

Kensi smiled, wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him in return. When she pulled away, she placed a kiss on his jaw, and tenderly with her right thumb wiped away the lipstick stain from his stubble. He swallowed and looked into her eyes, before he smiled genuinely. He bent down and kissed her on the cheek, two inches from her mouth.

"We'll get over them, Kens," He stated as he kissed her once more one inch away from her mouth, "I promise, an amazing friend once told me that it just might take us a little bit longer."

Eventually, they did heal, Callen first, then Kensi, though an enduring blemish remained deep within their hearts where they once held their past loves.

* * *

_**Thank you for reading. **_


End file.
